The Wrong Room
by SashaElizabeth
Summary: An AU look at Robert's dalliance with Jane during season two. Thank you to Settees-Under-Siege because your comment on tumblr set this in motion.
1. Chapter 1

**_The Wrong Room_**

_AN: the characters do not belong to me. I thank my lovely beta, Granthamfan, for always doing such wonderful work on my edits, and Settees-Under-Siege for giving me the idea for this story through a comment in tumblr._

**_The Walk_**

I was taking a leisurely walk through the grounds of Downton Abbey one brisk afternoon when I first began to think my husband didn't love me anymore. It didn't even cross my mind that I was ruining my silk shoes by veering from the path and into the mud. They were the pair for which I had sent to London earlier in the year as the summer days began to shorten. No matter what I thought about, my thoughts always drifted back to Robert. I knew that he had been highly dissatisfied with his role as a figurehead and morale booster during the war. He seemed rather lost as the rest of us found ourselves in the work that sprang up amidst the conflict. But, as I continued to think of the changes in him, it was evident that it was something more personal. There was something off in his demeanor; something about the way he looked at me as if he didn't see me at all. Robert had fallen out of love with me. It had to be, for I could conceive of no other explanation.

The thoughts sunk into me and pierced me like a knife, so sharp and sudden that I nearly lost my breath as I was about to turn back. For a moment, I stood there, stunned, but quickly recovered and made my way home. Every step grew heavier, and I had the sensation of sinking into an abyss of quicksand as I neared the place where I would have to pretend all was well when it was so painfully obvious that it was nothing short of loveless chaos.

**The Wrong Room**

Robert was sitting in one of his favorite leather armchairs in the library, paging through a book when the door opened unexpectedly. A disheveled and frustrated maid unceremoniously stepped through the double doors. She was a slight brunette, cheeks reddened by the flustering situation as she barged into what she must have assumed was an empty room, cleaning paraphernalia in hand.

I stood behind the screen by which I'd stopped, as I was about to come into the library upon returning from my walk when something inside compelled me to stop for a moment. My blood began to boil as I heard the flirty exchange of conversation between the two. Part of me couldn't believe it. My husband, the Earl of Grantham, and a maid? Had Robert lost his mind?

"What's your name?" Robert asked in a casual voice. He never used casual voices with anyone new! It was different with those who had been with us some time, such as Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes or Robert's valet, Mr. Bates, with whom he had served in the army during the Boer Wars. After all, none of these people blushed unceremoniously when they caught a glimpse of Robert, either. Could this be the woman he spoke of hiring a few days ago? It had struck me as odd that Mrs. Hughes had wished to speak to my husband about the matter of hiring a war widow, instead of myself. However, I was too occupied with other matters at hand to notice. Now I wished with every fiber of my being that I had listened.

"Jane, milord." She fidgeted with the cleaning implements in her hands. They made a clumsy clinking sound that echoed in the large room.

"Jane," he repeated as if caressing the name in his hand. I felt tears threaten their way into my eyes. That was a tone he never took with the servants!

I peered around the edge of the screen and saw her face flush even deeper. It was impossible to tell if it was with embarrassment of being caught in the wrong room that just happened to be occupied by a handsome earl or the headiness of a private conversation with my husband. I scolded myself internally, for this was not the kind of woman I am. I'm not the jealous type, listening to conversations by lurking around screens or behind columns. Yet, the tone of their voices made me feel as if I were genuinely eavesdropping on something meant to be private, which further reinforced the idea that I was better off standing still.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mistake," Jane said as she turned to leave.

"Don't go so quickly," Robert invited. "You're the war widow with the son?"

"Yes, milord," Jane answered. "Freddy."

I turned in the other direction and looked into the hallway from where I had come, then moved slowly toward the open door. My mud encrusted silk shoes barely made a sound as I tiptoed out of the range of their voices. Normally I would have cared that they were ruined beyond repair and had likely tracked mud on the Persian rugs. But, I was too heartbroken to think of anything but the years of marriage which I thought had been happy for both of us. I felt as ruined as my shoes, the mud of disillusionment drying into my soul, forever to leave a mark. Robert had been so distant with me recently, now to be so inviting to a new maid. I didn't want to think about it, but I feared I was no longer the object of his interest. Simply put, I was becoming convinced that he didn't love me anymore, and maybe he never had. Maybe if he had married one of the English girls over whom his mother had been so keen, he'd not need to spark a dalliance with the maid. I practically ran to my room, threw myself on my bed and cried myself to sleep until the dressing gong interrupted my fitful slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: the characters do not belong to me. I thank my lovely beta, Granthamfan, for always doing such wonderful work on my edits, and Settees-Under-Siege for giving me the idea for this story through a comment in tumblr._

_**Apples**_

The next day, I was taking a lonely stroll outside, hoping to clear my mind in a way that didn't involve burying myself in more war work. Although I had hated seeing Downton turned into a hospital at first, I supposed that Sybil had been the best example to us all of how to be selfless and think of the greater good. I had also faced the irritation of Isobel Crawley and her superiority-driven attempts at telling me how to run my own house. She was resentful of the changes I had made to the nurses' schedules and mealtimes for the staff and servants. The nerve she had to say I'd never had a profession in my life! Here I was, working tirelessly to create the most hospitable environment for the recovering soldiers while still being mindful of my own servants' mealtimes in order to prevent them from starving all afternoon due to the compounded dilemma of both an early luncheon and late tea! I was glad when Isobel had left for France, but sorry in a general, impersonal way when she was nowhere to be found when Matthew was missing for several days shortly after. It had been a relief for Matthew to turn up as Mary and Edith had been putting on their concert for the wounded officers, but I still resented Isobel and her sharp words.

But these were not the topics on my mind as I walked along, more wandering than taking a purposeful path. It faded away or the time being and was replaced by a singular topic. Robert's friendliness, to put it gently, with the maid. That woman. Jane. Why had she come? Weren't there other jobs for a war widow? Had she targeted my husband? Could she be so cunning as to insinuate herself onto her household in order to find her way into his good graces, or perhaps his heart? His bed? His every thought? I couldn't help but feel the hostility whenever she looked at me. I was the other woman. The competition. With a sinking heart, I knew I was already vanquished.

The thought of her had grown odious in my mind, and I chastened myself again from such thinking, as I had done in the library the other day. I was not a jealous woman. I repeated it like a mantra as I walked along, but I couldn't help but feel that what I was experiencing regarding Robert and Jane was not pure jealousy, but the correct wariness given the situation. It was all wrong.

Then I caught sight of a figure on a bicycle meandering up the gravel path toward Downton. At a distance, it was impossible to tell if the rider was a man or woman, but as it neared, I groaned inwardly as I recognized the person as none other than Jane. She was the last person I wanted to see. The basket on the front of her bicycle was overflowing with apples. She turned awkwardly as she saw another figure, familiar to me, but unnoticed. Robert.

"Your Lordship!" Jane was clearly trying to act surprised. She knew exactly what he was doing, trying to portray herself as the innocent. Anger against Robert burned inside me like a fever. How could he be that stupid?

At that moment, all of the apples in her basket tumbled straight to the ground. Gallant to a fault, Robert wasted no time in bending to the ground and helping the maid collect the apples, gently placing them back into the basket. Jane flashed him a smile, leaning her head toward his as if sharing some kind of secret.

He grinned in his most charming way. "Don't we feed you properly here?" He joked with the maid as he picked the fruit up and deposited some of it in her hands. Their touch lingered over the basket.

Jane returned the intimate friendliness. Nodding, she explained. "My mum has an orchard at home and likes to keep me well supplied." She threw her head back in the wind, still smiling with her gaze never leaving Robert.

Robert laughed and even from my distant vantage point, I could see the crinkles forming at the sides of his eyes. It was something else he reserved only for family or members of our household whom he had known well. But, exchanging a war story with Bates was not the same as flirting with a woman who was barely older than one of our daughters, laughing over spilled apples. It was too much. I tried to turn away, but found the act of moving to be physically impossible for a moment.

The tears that had been restrained earlier made good on their threat to roll down my cheeks in equal parts of anger, humiliation and self-doubt. Why must he do this? Had he felt so rejected by not being an active part of the army that he had to behave like this? Was it some way to prove that he was still vital? I shuddered at the thought and groaned as I thought of how embarrassing this would be if it was discovered by anyone else. It was bad enough for our relationship, but I also knew that others would notice. I did not want to be the laughingstock of the county. The countess who couldn't hold onto her man. Even though I usually left it to Robert and Violet to continuously worry about the propriety of things, nowhere would it be acceptable for a nobleman to flirt, or worse, with his maid! Where had I gone wrong? Why was he apparently tired of me? Had his mother convinced him after all these years of marriage that we were such a hideous mismatch that he had to turn away from me now? With a maid who could not contain her obvious lust for another woman's husband, no less?

"Why, Robert, why?" The words accidentally shot out of my mouth, but I was thankful that the distance and the day's breeze that took the sound away, where neither Jane nor my husband could hear it.

It was also becoming harder for me to hear them, but I thought I made out a few distorted words concerning her son Freddy and her desire for to be accepted to Ripon Grammar School. Then, I was quite sure that next I heard my husband offering to put a good word in for the boy, as if he were Robert's own son or grandson. Hardly!

Having heard and watched enough, I headed back to the house on a different, undetected path. I doubted they would have noticed if I'd walked directly in front of them, though. The pain of this was so strong that I began to feel it in my body as I continued on the way. The anger was making my head burn, the heat quickly spreading through my entire body, even into my limbs.

I could sense the worry in O'Brien's voice as she styled by hair before dinner a few hours later.

"What's wrong, milady? You seem troubled," O'Brien said as she arranged my hairpins as neatly and precisely as ever.

I sighed. Part of me wanted to pour my heart out to my trusted lady's maid, but the other part was still nagging on about me being just another insecure wife. I caught sight of my reflection. Cora, Countess Of Grantham, was not one of those women who had ever been clingy or underconfident. With the exception of my first painful year of marriage, until the time I had thought Robert fell in love with me, I never had been one of those women. After that, our relationship had become easy, natural, without a reason to second-guess anything. We knew one another intimately in every way possible, or so I had thought. Nevertheless, I wasn't about to let it show that I had any such feelings now. It was Robert who was in the wrong, not me. Why should I reprimand myself? I had been as faithful a wife as any woman could possibly be!

"I think I'm just tired from everything going on around here," I lied with a kindly smile toward the other woman. "But, I appreciate your concern, dear O'Brien," I finished. At least I could count on one person in the house to genuinely care about my feelings. My daughters understood me well enough, but had bigger issues in their lives than my every emotion. But I could rely on O'Brien to notice the subtleties and care enough to ask.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: the characters do not belong to me. I thank my lovely beta, Granthamfan, for always doing such wonderful work on my edits, and Settees-Under-Siege for giving me the idea for this story through a comment in tumblr._

**_Freddy and Fever_**

"He got in! Freddy's been accepted to Ripon Grammar!" An excited voice exclaiming about her son and his scholastic triumph was soon muffled by the fabric of Robert's coat as he embraced the maid in a congratulatory hug.

I wished I'd stayed inside, for it seemed my every walk was becoming interrupted by the closeness of Robert and Jane. Oddly enough, they didn't ever see me there. I sighed. It was becoming so typical. Whenever Jane was around, it was as if he could look right through me without perceiving my presence. Even when she was not there, I felt invisible. Was this really all because of my war work and the feelings Robert had developed of being of no use? I was starting to ask myself this question over and over. I suppose I didn't want to revert to the alternative explanation that he had stopped loving me earlier than the time of his insecurities. No, it must be the war. Would I not have felt myself losing him? I shook my head as I walked back toward the house. This could not be it. There had to be more at work than this.

It was time for the dressing gong when I returned, but I was in no mood for dinner. O'Brien sighed as she helped me dress.

"I wish you'd tell me," she said with anguish. "I know I'm repeating myself, but a secret like this won't do any good if you keep it inside, milady."

Uncharacteristically, I let the dam inside my chest burst open with the tears and insecurities pouring out. "He doesn't love me! He spends all his time with that maid Jane, talking about apples or her son, Freddy," I cried as O'Brien held me in her arms as a mother would do in comforting her child.

Then she looked down at me with confusion. "Who are Jane and Freddy, milady? I've never heard of them. I'm sure there's no maid here by that name."

There wasn't? A knock on the door interrupted my shock. It was Mary. As if she didn't have enough troubles of her own, with Matthew marrying Lavinia right in front of her eyes. My vision blurred as I tried to stand up again. I swayed for a moment before getting my footing.

"Are you sure you're all right, milady?"

I nodded as the pain in my head grew worse and I felt like the temperature in the room had been suddenly raised to boiling. "I just need to get downstairs to dinner. You know how Carson frowns on tardiness."

As I descended the stairs, the dizziness seemed to clear up for a moment, but as the dinner went on, I suddenly felt hot again.

"I must excuse myself," Lavinia was saying, although her words were a mere buzz in my ears as I struggled to keep myself upright in my chair. "I'm not quite all right," she finished. Mary stood up and escorted her to a room where she could rest. My poor Mary. That foolish, heartless Robert! How dare he allow Matthew's wedding to take place right under Mary's nose? It was supposed to be her wedding to Matthew, not Lavinia's. Mary held her emotions well in check by all appearances, but I knew my little girl. I knew she was crumbling inside, breaking into a million pieces. I knew I was, and I wished to have Mary's ability to conceal it. But with every passing minute as I felt worse physically, I feared that my emotions would come spilling out if I even glanced at Robert. The room started to sway again and I swallowed hard, not holding my emotions well, either.

My anger against Robert burned hotter than the fire in my head. He didn't even look at me, much less inquire as to how I was feeling. Rumors of Spanish Flu were swirling, and in my haze I didn't feel as much concern than when I had first heard about it. Then again, nothing had been as sharp or real to me since Jane.

In my next now-hitched breath, I heard myself as though from afar echoing Lavinia's words. "I'm afraid I'm not quite all right, either. I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me." Wobbling as I stood, I managed to make my way to the door as the others stared after me. Once in the foyer, I glanced up warily at the staircase. It was almost too much to manage, but I slowly made it step by step until I was finally in my bedroom. It took all the energy I had left to ring for O'Brien, who came rushing into the room with a stricken look on her face.

"Milady! Why did you ever decide to go down to dinner in the first place? I knew you weren't well. All this talk of people named Jane and Freddy..."

I was too breathless to protest as she worked to get me out of my clothes and into a nightdress. I truly felt as though I were suffocating, each breath coming in ever-tightening wheezes. O'Brien's eyes looked frightened even though her words were reassuring as she laid me down in bed and promised to leave only long enough to ring for Dr. Clarkson. Her voice was coming from above water as I was being pulled deeper and deeper into the middle of the ocean, a breathless, floating entity.

I didn't hear or sense the doctor's presence, only someone pressing a cool cloth to my head. It felt wonderfully refreshing and nice where it was placed, but only cooled a portion of the fire that was now my body. Still I thought of Robert. But, concepts and words were coming slowly to me now, dragged through the molasses of my fever, as I could not think of the words for the simplest of things, much less have the energy or breath to speak them. Finally a darkness engulfed me and gave me some mercy from my torment. It was a reprieve to not have to think of Jane anymore.

Hours later, I heard a voice calling to me. "Mama? Can you hear me? It's Sybil. Please try to open your eyes and look at me."

I tried, but it hurt too much. I sank deeper into my sweat-drenched pillows, my chest heavier than ever. A piercing and strained sound filled the air as I inhaled and exhaled, and it took a moment to realize it as the rasp of my own breathing. I felt someone squeeze my hand, probably Sybil or O'Brien. Then I was falling, fast and out of control, their voices and touches leaving me. My entire body was silent, no breath coming in or going out. The last sensation I felt was a sharp stab somewhere I couldn't name. Then the darkness claimed me in entirety.

In the next moment, although it could have been minutes or hours later, I saw him under an apple tree. He was picking apples and placing them into a barrel. For her! I writhed in pain at the notion. My body was filmy, transparent, just like my heart.

"You don't love me anymore," I sobbed. "Why don't you love me anymore, Robert?"

The wind that was blowing took away my voice and I stared at him, but he seemed to just look through me. It was as if I'd ceased to exist.

It felt kind for the darkness to overtake me again, brushing me with its inky hand into a cave of near nothingness, for I sensed voices and more stabs, even my body being shaken or moved with desperate moves by trembling hands. Someone's head was pressing into my chest and soaking my nightdress with tears and pleas. I briefly wondered why I should care as long as Robert had abandoned me. It certainly could not be him pleading for me to live. He had his new love, Jane. Was everything over now for me? Before I could think any further, I was plunged into a new abyss.

It might have been a few moments or a few days later when I opened my eyes briefly, the light feeling like a thousand pinpricks, which prompted me to close them once more. But before I did so, I caught sight of Robert leaning across his half of our bed, staring intently at me. There were tears in his eyes, but it didn't make sense.

"You don't love me," I rasped out between gasps for breath.

His expression was puzzled, but just as I was closing my eyes again, I saw Jane standing in the far corner of the room. She was laughing. She pointed at me and raised her chin in triumph. It wasn't as if I needed to say anything. She had won.

Tears rolled down my fevered cheeks as I returned it the darkness, and this time there were no voices.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: the characters do not belong to me. I thank my lovely beta, Granthamfan, for always doing such wonderful work on my edits, and Settees-Under-Siege for giving me the idea for this story through a comment in tumblr._

**A New Day Dawns**

I opened my eyes, finding my room crowded with my daughters, Isobel and O'Brien.

Sybil leaned over me, a clean, cool cloth in her hand that she promptly ran over my brow. "Mama? Can you hear me this time? Please keep your eyes open just for a few minutes."

I did my best to comply, but it was due to the fact that I wished to stay conscious long enough to see if Jane was still there. I peered into the corner in which she had been standing the previous night. It wasn't easy to see over that kind of distance since my eyes were remarkably bleary and so many people were standing in the way, crowded round my bed. It took me a few blinks of my burning eyes to see that the corner was empty. She might not be there presently, but I didn't think she would be gone for long. She was probably sneaking off with Robert at this very minute!

A groan escaped my lips and Sybil jumped a little. Isobel leaned closer, her face concerned, as well. "Shall I ring for the doctor? He's only just left, but if she needs more epinephrine..."

Sybil nodded. "I don't want to be caught short if she stops breathing again. It brought her back before."

Isobel moved off the bed and I heard her skirts rustling, but my mind was fully fixed on Jane and Robert. My breath started to come in gasps as I felt the weight of the situation fall heavily upon me. He didn't love me. When did he stop loving me?

Sybil, the room and all else began to spin away from me, and I was almost glad because it was the room where Jane had laughed at me in the corner, the room where I'd been so sure of Robert and I as an enduring couple. The room where I had to be constantly aware of the loss of my husband. Tears began to fall from my eyes as I felt a hand squeezing mine. Probably O'Brien, but then I was back in the darkness again, although everything was flickering. When it ceased, I could easily see Robert and Jane once again embracing in the apple orchard. Then the scene sped up and I heard Sybil again, coaxing me to wake up.

However, once I opened my eyes, I found myself face to face with the last person I wanted to see. Robert.

"Cora? My darling? Please come back to me. For good this time," he implored. His eyes were rimmed in red and his voice was husky with unshed tears.

"Why? You have Jane," I replied, noticing that my breath was coming much more easily despite the tightness of emotion in my throat.

His eyes narrowed. "Jane? I don't know anyone by that name, sweetheart."

I tried to shake my head but had to limit my movement because of the pain and overall weakness of my body. "She's the new maid. You love her. Not me."

Robert looked up at Sybil with alarm. "What does this mean? I thought she was supposed to have turned the corner!" He turned back to me, the tears that I heard in his voice dripped onto my face and hands. He lifted my hands and pressed my fingers to his lips with a desperate kiss. "Please, Cora! Start making sense! You can't leave me now. Not after frightening us so badly. Please!"

Sybil ran for the door and appeared with Dr. Clarkson at her side. He took my pulse, looked me over and declared that my fever was gone. "As it has been for days, I might remind you. She took a very long time to awaken, but it's not surprising considering the severity of the illness. She did stop breathing several times and was revived with the epinephrine."

Robert eyed him sharply. "She's talking about things that never occurred. Is that because of what happened," his hands gestured wildly in futile grasping for the reality of the concept, "before the injections?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, there's no permanent damage as she was treated so quickly. I think it's much more likely that Lady Grantham has been suffering from nightmares."

Sybil took my other hand. "Mama? Did you have bad dreams?"

I nodded, letting the tears come.

Before I could speak, Sybil leaned down to give me a gentle hug. I tried to wrap my arms around her, but my arms felt too heavy to lift. Instead, I let myself relax into her embrace. My youngest daughter. The one with whom, in so many ways, I had much in common. She felt like a safe haven among the dreams and confusion. Her touch and voice made me feel like I was home again.

While Sybil was so close, I saw my only opportunity to find out what was happening. "Is there really no maid named Jane?"

Sybil kissed my forehead as she gently backed away. She smiled as she looked into my eyes, shaking her head. "No, Mama. There's no Jane."

I felt relief flooding my mind and body. No Jane? It was only a nightmare? Really? I frowned at the speed of the thoughts coursing through my mind.

"Who was that out there by the apple tree, in the wind?" My voice was small, lost, confused.

Robert looked at me with eyes that had once again filled with tears. As he stared at me, they began to fall. He didn't even try to hide them, a fact that left me astonished. "You. That's where we found you that afternoon when you said you were hot and wanted to take a walk to get some air. Isis started barking and wouldn't leave me alone, so I went go the window and looked outside. I thought you were - never mind. You were just lying there on the ground, not moving... I've never run so fast in my life. Not even in South Africa."

My focus on him grew watery. "You really do love me?"

He nodded and gently gathered me up in his arms. "You, Cora, and you alone." He brushed a loose strand of hair from my eyes. "There is no Jane and there never was. Even if there were, I'd only have love for you!"

I started to sob with relief. He loved me! It was all just a dream! He laid me down again, never taking his eyes from mine. Even though I felt weak from the sickness, my confidence in Robert and our love was surging strong within me. I let him arrange the covers around me, placing my head on the pillow in the most comfortable way. Throughout it all, my tears continued to flow from gratefulness and that moment when one realizes that their worst fears were only a shadow.

"Hush now, my love, you must get your rest. Don't cry. I'm not going anywhere- now or ever." He wiped away my tears with his fingertips and kisses before settling beside me and putting his arm around me. Within minutes, the nearness of Robert and the assurance of his love lulled me into a deep sleep without any dreams at all.

When I woke the next morning, I still felt groggy from the influenza but more rested than I had in years. The war had taken its toll on everyone, I knew. I turned over and saw Robert sleeping peacefully beside me and grinned. He loved me and it was over. I let my finger ghost along his cheek, trying to not wake him from what was undoubtedly a much-needed slumber. He muttered a little as I withdrew my hand, his face contorting with an anguished expression.

"Robert? Wake up, my darling," I whispered, caressing his face again to try to calm whatever dream from which he was facing torment.

In a second, he opened his eyes and looked at me with fear followed by relief. "Oh, Cora. You're here. You're alive." He grasped my hand and pulled it to his lips, desperately kissing the back of my hand.

I inched toward him with painstaking motions. My body still hurt from the days of coughing and struggling to breathe, feeling as if it should be black and blue from head to toe. "I'm here, alive. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you!"

He sighed. "I suppose my dreams are borne of guilt," he began. "I was not fair to you during the war. I resented that you had a purpose and I was just left behind. I'm so sorry, Cora. Can you ever forgive me for being so out of sorts?"

"Of course! I should have been more mindful of that," I said, holding him close. "But, your purpose was always here with me." I swallowed hard. "It always will be, Robert. I love you and I will love you forever."

Even though it was only morning, my eyes began to feel heavy and I leaned back onto my pillow. By the time I was done moving, they had closed and sleep was beginning to claim me.

"Rest now," Robert whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

I felt his gentle kisses as the waking world faded away from me. Once I was asleep again, Robert realized how very exhausted he was and leaned close to me and let slumber take him over. We slept until afternoon that day, the first day of the rest of our lives, both dreaming of loving each other forever.

**_The End_**


End file.
